A One More Battle
by Sandylee007
Summary: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS. No one knew that as Clint came back from his retirement his days were numbered. Will he get back to his family before it's too late? Or will he die in a prison cell? Will his last days be what brings the shattered team back together? THREESHOT CHARACTER DEATH
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, who else had their heart broken by 'Civil War'! (lifts both hands) The movie was AWESOME but also heart smashing. The poor team! POOR CLINT! (wipes eyes)

This is my second 'Civil War' -story. BUT, before getting to the actual thing…

DISCLAIMER: YEAH… RIGHT…! If I did I would've never made our darlings fight each other. (POUTS) Amazing as it was to watch, admittedly…

WARNINGS: 'CIVIL WAR' SPOILERS, some sadness, family stuff… Ya know, a surprisingly tame for my list.

Awkay, before I chicken out… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 _ **A One More Battle**_

* * *

Cooper woke up to the sound of his dad's cell phone ringing. Instantly cold sped through his whole body and his chest tightened to a point where breathing became challenging. His eyes were wide while he lay tense in his bed.

It wasn't like he disapproved his dad's chosen career. Of course he didn't. His dad was his biggest hero and sometimes it infuriated him that he couldn't tell all his friends who his other parent really was. Even if no one ever seemed to remember Hawkeye when they talked about the Avengers. But by now Cooper was old enough to understand all the risks his dad's job included. He'd seen the man return injured – sometimes after a near-death experience – enough times to have all worst case scenarios imprinted to his head. Every single time his dad received a call 'to the field' Cooper feared, from the bottom of his heart and soul, that the man might not come back.

The words spoken first by his dad, then by both of his parents, were so muffled that the boy couldn't quite comprehend them. The adults talked for a very long time. Intensely, even though their voices were never raised. There may have been a couple of sobs. Then soft steps approached his room and paused by the doorway.

"I know that you're awake, buddy."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"Hawkeye, remember?" A few seconds of silence passed by, with both of them deep in thought. "Look… I'm sorry that we have to postpone the water skiing." The usually strong man's voice was heavy with such regret the boy couldn't understand properly yet.

Cooper shrugged. "It's okay." As if the stupid water skiing was his biggest worry… He shifted so that he could see his dad's outline, illuminated by the hallway's light. "Was it the Avengers? Do they need your help again?"

His dad nodded slowly. "Wanda does." The man's tone of voice was enough to indicate that something was horribly wrong.

Cooper knew better than to try and ask what was wrong because he wouldn't have gotten an honest answer, anyway. "You'll be home soon, right?" There might not be an honest answer for that one, either. But he couldn't stop himself.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." His dad obviously meant it. Even if they both knew that far too often things didn't exactly go their way. "Take care of the home front in the meantime, yeah?"

Cooper nodded firmly. "Of course." He'd do his best to stay strong. Just like his dad always did.

Cooper wasn't entirely sure how it happened. But all of a sudden his dad's arms were wrapped around him and he clung to the embrace as tightly as he could. Words weren't necessary as they just sat there on the edge of his bed, both trying to find comfort.

"You're not crying, are you?" Cooper asked at last. The silence becoming too suffocating to bear. "Because if you are I'll tell aunt Nat. She'd never let you live it down."

His dad chuckled. It bubbled in the air between and around them like soothing balm. "No, she wouldn't."

* * *

Lila woke up to a feather light kiss to her forehead. Despite her sleepy state she recognized her dad's presence immediately. As well as what was going on.

She grabbed his shirt as tightly as she could, unable to hold back a couple of tears. "You said you wouldn't go anymore", she murmured, her voice breaking. "You promised."

"I know, sweetie. And I'm sorry." He was, even a child could tell that. "I wouldn't go if I didn't have to. You know that, right?"

Lila nodded feebly. Because she did know, even if she was feeling incredibly hurt and scared. She blinked furiously but her eyes were still blurry when she looked at him. "Is it the bad guys?"

Her dad sighed. He looked just as sad as she felt when their pet dog died. "Not this time. Just… a bunch of good guys being silly."

Lila nodded. She was too young to understand properly. "Do you think you can help them?"

Her dad tried to smile although it didn't look right. His eyes didn't light up like they should've. "I don't know", he confessed softly. "But I have to hope. Because…"

"… it's what we stubborn Bartons do", Lila filled in. And despite everything she grinned, even if only for a couple of blinks. She leaned her head against his chest, listening to the reassuring, steady beat of his heart. "I love you, daddy", she breathed out, so softly that she was sure he wouldn't hear.

Of course he did. He was absolutely still for a bit. "I love you, too", he sighed.

"To the moon and back?"

"To the moon and back."

* * *

Laura entered Nate's room just as Clint was putting the sleeping baby back into the crib, gently, oh so gently. For a little while her husband's eyes were suspiciously moist. No wonder. She felt like her heart had been torn to tiny pieces.

"They're a mess", she sighed, running a hand down her face.

Clint nodded, his face very serious. For those few secret seconds he dared to appear vulnerable in front of her. "Yeah." There was raw, genuine grief in his voice. Their eyes met. "But they're still my mess. I have to save what I can."

Laura made her way to him and folded him into a tight, nearly desperate hug. She could've told him that this wasn't his battle anymore. But she knew that she would've been wrong. There was nothing she could've done to stop him, no matter how much she would've wanted to.

She held on to him, perhaps too hard. Wondering if she'd be able to let go when the time came. "Be careful, you stubborn idiot", she whispered against his lips. "And come back to us."

Clint kissed the top of her nose. His hold on her tightened marginally. "I'll be back before you know it." Of course they both knew that there was no way he could actually promise that. But hearing him say that was nonetheless a thin ray of much needed comfort.

"And we'll be right here waiting." She squeezed his hand. "No matter what."

Clint kissed her cheek, then whispered something in a language she didn't understand.

Despite the circumstances and the tears building up behind her closed eyelids Laura smiled a little. "You know I hate it when you do that. You'd better not have just insulted me, Barton."

"I'll tell you what it meant when I come back."

They held each other for a few more stolen moments. Unwilling to speak because all words felt flat and hollow. And then, after a one more kiss she might've imagined, Clint was gone. Like a ghost. At first Laura thought that it was that very thought which made her shiver, until she became aware of the sobs rocking her whole frame.

There, left with nothing but the ghost of his husband's touch and his possibly empty promise, Laura wanted to scream from the bottom of her breaking heart.

* * *

Clint's hands were perfectly steady while he pulled on his battle gear. His expression was composed despite the hurricane blowing within. A soldier preparing for combat.

Of course he didn't want to leave his family. But Wanda needed his help. And he owed this to Pietro. After everything the least he could do was look after the speedster's sister.

If this was his final battle he'd make it count.

A doctor's grim words echoed in his ears, taunting him. / _" … so sorry, Mr. Barton … You may have months … maybe a couple of years … It's impossible to tell for certain" …_ /

Clint's hold on his bow tightened to a point where his knuckles turned white as he put the precious weapon to its rightful place. For a few seconds there was a lump in his throat until he soldiered it down. He lifted his chin defiantly – against fate and the world – and narrowed his eyes.

This was Hawkeye's final battle. Just a couple of days. He'd help out Wanda. Tony and those siding the billionaire… He'd never even face them. He'd pay his dues. Then he'd return to his family and make the most of whatever time he had left.

What more could possibly go wrong when _everything_ was already _wrong_?

* * *

 _ **End**_

* * *

A/N: Oh gosh, poor family Hawkeye…! (sighs) Just imagine if this REALLY was the backstory behind Clint's retirement, if he returned under these circumstances. If only the team knew...! (I'm slightly tempted to type a second chapter from the aftermath of the fiasco, where they find out.)

Sooooo… Was that any good, at all? This sort of came out of the blue so I'd REALLY like to hear if this was a hit or miss. It'd be sort of awesome if you fed the comment box down below… (smirks sheepishly)

Awkay, I've gotta go now. THANK YOU, so much, for reading! Maybe I'll see you again?

Take care!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: SURPRISE! I'm BACK. A lot of you seemed to want a real, proper conclusion to this story. So, here I am! (grins)

 **A word of warning, though…** This'll get REALLY SAD. So, I truly hope that you'll be prepared for such if you decide to advance further…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, listings and love! GOSH. I'm absolutely baffled by how many of you enjoyed the starting point of this. (HUGS)

Awkay, because it's getting REALLY late… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

X

* * *

The full reality of his situation crashed on Clint the moment Tony left the holding section after their brief, unpleasant talk. He began to tremble miserably as he slid to the floor, pulling his legs against his chest. His eyes stung and eventually he closed them. Feeling utterly drained and defeated.

Let them watch all they like through the security footage.

He was supposed to help Wanda and then return home. But somehow he ended up failing both those goals. Wanda was imprisoned with him. A criminal.

The thought made Clint's chest tighten. A criminal. After everything he'd done and been through… _that_ was his final label? This was the end of his last mission?

The pain, which he'd forgotten for a moment during Tony's visit, that came rolling in had nothing to do with the emotional ache. He squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly and took a deep breath, then another. Trying the deep breathing techniques he'd been taught to use to help when the pains began to get too much. It was a small mercy that he didn't know about the tears running down his cheeks.

Yes, the reality he lived in crashed on him like a steamroller.

He'd die here, in this cell. As a criminal. And unless it was by some miracle he'd never see his family again.

Clint gritted his teeth painfully tightly, curling into himself the best as he could without the discomfort becoming unbearable. Missing his family, missing the way the team once was. He would've started to scream at the injustice of it all if he hadn't feared that it might crack his throbbing skull.

* * *

They were all interrogated, several times over.

Wanda could tell that their guards were afraid of her and found it ironic. She'd never done anything to harm a single one of them. They, on the other hand, enabled her going through painful experiments and questions. Like she was a lab rat.

And these people honestly thought that they were better than HYDRA…

Wanda had no idea how long had passed from them being captured when she roused from light sleep to the sounds of rushing steps and loudly barked, urgent orders. At first she imagined that one of them had attempted to escape. But then she noticed the amount of medical personnel and felt her whole body turn cold while her stomach knotted. And they were all rushing into Clint's cell.

"HEY!" Sam was banging his fist loudly at the plexiglass. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing?"

Loudly spoken medical jargon – such that made no sense to her – drifted to Wanda's ears. And then, before she could quite catch her breath, they were rushing away with Clint. There were so many people crammed around the archer that it was impossible to see him clearly. But she did notice that he was too still. Only one thought fit into her head.

Something was wrong. Something was _wrong_. _Something was wrong._

She knew as much with absolute certainty because the last time she felt like this was right before Pietro's death.

She wanted to run, to do _something_ , but couldn't with the way she'd been restrained. She wanted to scream and shout but didn't have enough breath. She wanted to cry but the tears pooled into her eyes without really falling.

And so she was stuck on waiting, just like she once foolishly wished for her parents to return somehow while she and Pietro were trapped in the rubble.

* * *

Tony barely had the time to catch his breath after the confrontation with Steve and Bucky before he received the news that something was horribly wrong with Clint. He was on the move before he had any time to process his decision, reacting by instinct. His heart pounded mercilessly while everything that'd gone wrong recently kept spinning around in his head on an endless loop. Tony's heart sunk all the way to his stomach when instead of the holding section he was led to the medical wing.

What the hell was going on?

Once he made it there a young, solemn faced doctor greeted him. She was undeniably attractive with her huge, sharp blue eyes and long blond hair. Under different circumstances he might've… "I'm sorry to bother you on such a late hour, but…"

Tony shook his head, interrupting her sharply. He was starting to get a nasty feeling that time was an issue, here. "It's okay. Just tell me what's going on." It wasn't a gentle request.

The doctor didn't seem to mind. "Clint… collapsed. As it turns out he's malnourished and dehydrated. He also seems to be in pain but is refusing to let any of us examine him." She sighed, appearing tired and frustrated. How long had she been fighting with Clint? "He'd need a hospital, but…" She left the rest hanging but the words were very clearly audible. Not fighting with just the archer, then.

Tony swallowed laboriously. The lump in his throat didn't go anywhere. "I know how stubborn that idiot can be." He aimed for a joking tone and failed miserably. "Can I, eh, see him?"

The doctor nodded and motioned for him to follow. They both knew that she was risking her job but she didn't seem to give a damn. "There's this ethical code I swore to follow upon graduating to my profession." Her jawline tightened. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm working for the good guys, after all."

Tony felt like someone had just stabbed him. A bitter taste filled his mouth. "Who are the good guys anymore, anyway?"

The doctor didn't bother to answer. And that was when they reached their destination. Tony froze, his eyes widening. If he'd been feeling horrible before…

Clint was handcuffed to the bed although it looked like the man wouldn't have been able to walk more than a couple of steps without collapsing. The archer was horribly pale and evidence of lost weight was all over his face. The Hawk was trembling from the strain of sitting up, breathing and staying awake alone. The bruises on the man's arms made Tony feel sick and see red.

What the hell had those people been doing to his… friends? Were they friends? Still?

Just then Clint lifted his head, just enough to see him. The Hawk did his best to hide it but mistrust, such that pained Tony, could still be seen. "What… are you doing here?"

Well, if that didn't hurt… "I heard that you've been an idiot." Worry made his tone sharper than it was supposed to be. He barely noticed the doctor's departure. "What are you doing, trying to starve yourself?"

Clint breathed sharply. Looking quite a bit like a trapped wild animal. The man refused to look at him. It took some time before the answer came, in a voice that didn't sound anything like Clint's. "I'm not eating because it'd come back up, anyway. Okay? And I won't let them poke around because I already know what's wrong."

Tony stared. He had a strange feeling that there were ice-chips in his bloodstream. "What are you talking about?"

Finally, Clint met his eyes. The trapped look in them had transformed into such ache, sorrow, rage and longing that it shattered his heart. "I'm dying, Tony. This, getting Wanda out… It was supposed to be my final hat-trick." The man snorted, looking away once more. "I forgot my usual luck."

Forget about getting stabbed, or shot. That… would've hurt much less. Because just then the full consequences of the whole stupid war began to land on Tony's sagging shoulders. And it took all his willpower to not start crying right there and then.

Idiots, all of them.

Tony wanted to start screaming, ranting and shouting. He was itching to throw things. Instead he stood paralyzed, staring at his once incredibly strong friend who was fading away before his very eyes. He wanted to roar at his friend, accuse the man of keeping this from him, although he knew that it was ridiculous. He also wanted to apologize, from the bottom of his far too proud heart. Yet something very different slipped through his lips. "Did Steve know?" Because if the soldier did… If Steve actually called Clint in knowing…

Clint, however, shook his head.

Tony nodded, dazed and numb from shock. He could already feel a hurricane rising within, though. There was so much he would've wanted to – needed to – say… "Clint…"

"Are you going to help me out of here?"

How was he supposed to answer that?

Clint clearly took his silence for an answer. The Hawk nodded, bitterness visible for a fraction of a second. "That's what I thought. So… Leave. Before you get yourself or others into any more trouble. And if it eases your guilty conscience… I'm a grown man. I knew what I was getting into from the start."

Tony gritted his teeth. Speechless, breathless. "Still, I… I'm sorry."

Clint's eyes softened. Seeing, as per usual, something most people wouldn't have. "I know. So am I."

Tony shifted his weight with discomfort. Unwilling to leave although staying was excruciating and, like Clint just pointed out, a plain bad idea. "Just… Take care of yourself, okay?" Without noticing it he'd moved to the automatic doors leading to the room. "Maybe… Maybe we'll still figure something out." He wouldn't give up. Couldn't.

Clint's eyes, however, told very clearly what the reality was. The archer's shoulders slumped. "You take care of yourself, too." With those words – which felt too much like a goodbye – the doors closed between them.

It wasn't until Tony made it to his office he wiped his face and was surprised when his hand came back moist.

* * *

Natasha knew what had happened the second she received a text message from Tony. Few worded, filled with spelling errors which gave away the billionaire's drunken state. The reek of alcohol was still present when she entered his office, her heart heavy from worry, sorrow and helpless fury. A remarkable achievement, really, from a woman who once claimed that she didn't have a heart at all.

Tony was stood by the window with his back to her. She'd been there for a while before he spoke. "Did you know?"

Natasha didn't need clarification. The memories made her shiver. "Yeah." The day Clint revealed why he was really retiring, told her with teary eyes just how little time he had left and begged her to look after his family when he couldn't… It was definitely among the most horrible days of her life. Something she wished to have been nothing but a nightmare.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony snapped, turning towards her. His eyes were sharp and hard. She could tell that she wasn't the real target of his rage.

"Would it have changed anything?" The silence which answered her was what she'd been expecting. She sighed heavily, hating how her eyes stung. "Look… Why you did, what you did… I get it. I really do. But you'll have to decide just how much collateral damage you're willing to accept." With those words she left the room, knowing full well that she'd already met her own limit.

* * *

Especially after the discovery of Clint's condition Tony was keeping a close enough eye on the imprisoned group to know about Steve's plans well before the Captain appeared to break out the team. He had the option to alert those keeping guard. He didn't.

Instead he read Steve's letter a second time. Then took deep breaths, picked up his phone and dialed. "Cancel all my meetings for the next few days. I'm finally taking that holiday you've been nagging about…"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: If it's any consolation, typing that hurt. And the next – and last – chapter is going to hurt even worse. (winces) Poor, poor Clint! Poor whole team! This one's gonna HURT. Let's just hope that he gets to see his family before it's too late.

Soooo… Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PLEASE, do let me know! It's sort of unnerving to continue on a story I thought was completed so it'd be AWESOME to hear from you.

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you there. Perhaps, with tissues…

Take care!

* * *

Ande: There is! And now it will! (grins) I really hope that you'll enjoy what's to come.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The amount of words in this chapter is INSANE! But I couldn't bring myself to break this in two, so… Here we are. At the very last bit of this story. AND, I've gotta warn you… This'll get quite sad…! (winces)

THANK YOU, so, so much, for reviews, listings and love! I've overjoyed that so many of you have joined this heartbreaking ride. (HUGS) I really hope that the last bit turns out worth the wait!

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: I absolutely DO NOT own and didn't come up with the quote at the bottom of the chapter. No one probably knows who first came up with it. But I LOVE it, despite how sad it is, and it fit this chapter.

Now, because it's getting late… Off we go! **Tissue alert…?**

* * *

 **X**

* * *

When Steve first received Tony's message he had every right to assume that it was an invitation to a trap. After all, the previous time they met he came chillingly close to killing the billionaire. So close, in fact, that the memory still made him feel sick.

So, to say that Steve had some reservations would've been a pathetic understatement. But the words glaring at him nonetheless made his chest tighten and his heart plummet. Especially when they were so full of spelling errors that the message was nearby incomprehensible. Especially when the full cost of the bitter war began to dawn on him.

' _Clint's dying. Do you think we could take a break from this crap?_ '

For almost two full minutes Steve remained paralyzed by the shock. Trying to decide if he should believe Tony. Trying to cope with the horrific possibility that this wasn't just some sort of a sick trap, after all. In the end his unsteady fingers typed a responding message.

' _What happened?_ ' Because, really… What else was he supposed to say? No amount of apologies would've been enough.

It wasn't until hours later Tony finally replied, and by then Steve had nearly succeeded in walking a hole to the room's floor. He wasn't sure what he expected the message to contain. What he faced managed to feel like he'd been struck by Thor's hammer. Somehow the fact that this time there were no spelling errors made everything sting more.

' _He got sick, that's what happened. Then he made the mistake of deciding to help you and got locked up. Now are you gonna help him or let him die in a prison cell?_ '

Whatever hesitation Steve had been feeling… It left his system in a flash. He held the phone so tightly while typing that it was a miracle the item didn't break.

' _I'm in._ '

It wasn't long ago he stood on a battle ground with a lot of friends by his side. But now, a few treacherous tears falling in the solitude of a ridiculously fancy room he'd been granted by T'Challa… He was all alone. And was it any wonder? When he took a look into a mirror a few minutes later, after splashing cold water on his face, he barely recognized himself anymore.

* * *

It was decided that Operation Prison Break would start out just before dawn. Having the minimum amount of guards along would make the incredibly ridiculous thing at least one little bit less challenging. They met a respectful distance away from the location, at a street corner no one ever bothered to keep an eye on.

The meeting of a well-known fugitive and an even more famous billionaire would've raised too many questions – especially when the events of the stupid war were very public knowledge.

Tony… didn't look healthy. The man was pale, his eyes were surrounded by gray circles and he had at least a week's worth of stubble. An eyebrow rose at Steve in a greeting. The tension all over Tony's body spoke louder than any words could've.

Understandable. And soon stubborn, hellishly stinging anger bubbled in Steve's veins as well, sharpening his words. "You don't look so good. Are you sober?" They'd work as allies, at least this one last time. But pleasantries… Too much to ask for.

The arched eyebrow began to twitch. Tony's eyes narrowed, and that was when the very fresh looking bruise on the man's cheek became visible. "You really make me want to punch in those perfect teeth", the billionaire growled. And meant it this time.

"He's sober. But he has a bad hangover", a new voice announced. Natasha revealed herself, tense and an uncharacteristic hint of hesitation and grief in her eyes. Well, at least now it was evident who delivered the bruise. "I've been stuffing him with coffee since yesterday evening."

Questions and accusations would've been a waste of time. So Steve nodded sharply, casting something that wasn't a glare but also not friendly towards Tony. "Let's get this started, then. I'm under the impression that we have no time to waste."

Well. It seemed that they still had something in common. The raw ache and guilt in Tony's eyes matched his own perfectly. "Let's try to fix this mess."

* * *

Breaking into a prison isn't a simple affair. With Tony's help, however, Steve succeeded. Steve freed Wanda, Scott and Sam first mainly because he wanted to stall facing the inevitable for as long as possible. Then, finally, he peered into Clint's cell.

Only to find it empty.

"They took him away a couple of days ago. Probably to the infirmary, because he was unconscious." The fear and ache in Wanda's eyes were a painful reminder of just how young she was. "They refused to tell us what's wrong with him. Or if he's even still alive."

Steve knew that she was desperate for answers and was truly sorry that he couldn't offer any. With the speed of sheer despair he was running. Hoping desperately that he wasn't already too late. "Get out of here. We don't have a lot of time. I'll go and get him."

* * *

Clint had no idea how much time had passed. Understandable enough, since he spent more time asleep than awake, now. The stress… The… interrogation sessions… They were speeding up the process of him getting worse. Time was running out.

He dreamt of home. Of better days, before all of this mess. He allowed himself as much. If he wasn't going to live to become a sentimental old fool, he could as well start now.

Maybe he was a little too deep into those daydreams – delusions, bittersweet memories. Because all of a sudden he could've sworn that he heard Steve's voice. "… is he?"

* * *

Steve was relieved that he met minimum resistance on the way to the infirmary. As he barged in he managed to startle a young, blonde haired doctor whose eyes widened at the sight of him. She studied his face for a couple of seconds before her eyes narrowed. "Are you here to pick up a fight, or to get him home?"

A sharp twinge made itself known in Steve's abdomen. "To take him home. And… I know I should've come sooner." It was something he'd never, ever forgive himself for. He took a deep breath. "Where is he?"

She nodded towards a small room at their right, the door of which was ajar. "He may be a little out of it. I had to give him some pretty strong pain medication when he bit his lip so hard it bled to keep himself from screaming." She sighed. "I would've medicated him sooner but he refused."

It sounded so much like the Hawk that under different circumstances Steve might've smiled. At the moment he was very glad for the medicine supply T'Challa had given him. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Thank you, for looking after him." Something told him that she was the only friendly face the archer had encountered during his captivity.

The doctor nodded. "Now get him and go. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve to spend his last days in a place like this."

Steve barely managed to look away quickly enough to hide his wince. Then, focusing firmly on the mission at hand, he marched into the room. He was sadly aware of the fact that he didn't quite succeed in hiding his shock over what greeted him.

Clint was pale and visibly exhausted. Pain and stress had left heavy marks on the man's face. The archer… looked like he was slipping away. But unlike the doctor predicted the eyes looking his way were alert, familiar. Clint winced, already fighting to sit up. "I look that bad, huh?" It hurt how surprised the archer looked to see him there. "So… You came."

Finally managing to gather his wits Steve hurried to help his friend, first to sit, then – as Clint adamantly refused to stay down – to stand up. "I… I should've come sooner."

Clint's hand squeezed his shoulder. "You're here now. The rest is details." The archer shivered. "Let's just… Let's move, 'k? Before I throw up on your shoes."

* * *

There were very, very few people who'd ever really, truly known Natasha. Very few who'd even tried. She'd lost far too many of them. But Clint… Somehow she thought that he'd be a different story. He'd been a constant for so long that she'd even forgotten to be afraid of losing him.

Despite their line of job. Despite all his injuries. Even after Loki. He'd fought his way back to life so many times that somehow he'd began to feel invincible. Until the day he told her, in a trembling voice and choking on his words, that his time was actually limited.

Natasha had been well and brutally educated in the art of self-control since she was a little girl. But when she saw Clint making his way towards her, barely able to stand despite Steve's help… She dropped all of those bitter lessons.

Neither spoke a word when she marched her way to him and folded him to a tight embrace, burying her face to his shoulder. Distinctly she noticed him shiver with surprise and pain before he held back. He still smelled and felt like Clint. He was still there. For now.

If Clint felt any of the moisture rolling down her cheeks he didn't mention it. By the time they broke the embrace her eyes were dry and free of any signs of slipped control. "Now let's get you to the jet." She wrinkled her nose. "You need a wash, and a shave. And a change of clothes. Laura and the kids will have a fit if they see you dressed like a convict from some stupid action movie."

* * *

Sam and Scott were given the jet Steve used earlier and told that the pilot would take them to a secure location. The rest of them crammed into Tony's jet, despite the air around them being so thick and loaded that being confined into such a small space was definitely a horrible idea. In the end they decided that now, if ever, it was time to think past their hurt feelings.

Of course Tony's jet had bathroom facilities. And of course that space was at least three times the size of a commercial flight's toilet. Clint hobbled there after announcing firmly that he definitely didn't need a babysitter for that particular gig. Four pairs of watchful eyes monitored his departure.

"Those people… They won't find the Farm, right?" Wanda didn't have to clarify.

"Officially I'm taking a vacation. And if they come looking… Let them. This thing's untraceable." Tony sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Look…"

Wanda shook her head firmly. For a while her eyes shimmered with rage and grief. "We'll have that talk." And, without a doubt, there'd be a lot yelling. "But not now."

The rest of them couldn't have agreed more.

After twenty tense minutes they came to a conclusion that something was wrong. Steve approached the toilet's door with a frown and knocked. "Clint?" When there was no response he opened the door to find the man in the middle of changing his clothes. And felt like he'd been slapped.

The traces of illness were clear on Clint's shirtless body. There were also bruises, some of them almost healed, some fresh and vivid in color. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out where they'd come from. The realization made the weight sitting on Steve's chest grow tenfold.

Clint, of course, quickly sensed him there. Discomfort was loud and clear on the man's face. "They… weren't exactly gentle on a guy who'd become a traitor twice." So Loki's shadow was still thick and heavy.

Steve didn't know what to say. Where to begin. "I… If there's anything…"

"I'm done with being angry, okay? And looking back. And the blame game." Clint clearly meant it. "You wanna do something to repay me, for helping out?" For just a couple of seconds the Hawk's eyes watered before the man managed to pull himself together. "Look after my family, when I can't. Because… If the three rugrats turn up anything like me they and Laura are gonna need all the help they can get."

Yet again Steve didn't know what to say, so he nodded.

Clint nodded back, relief pressing his shoulders down. "Good, I'm… I'm glad we got that sorted. Now… This is a bit embarrassing, but… Could you help me with the shirt? I got it tangled."

* * *

It didn't take long before they already landed. Out of silent, mutual agreement Tony and Steve helped Clint – who stubbornly refused to be 'carried around like a freaking damsel in distress' – out of the aircraft. The journey towards the Farm felt endless. The others couldn't even imagine how long it had to feel for Clint.

When they finally entered Clint paused. Gathered himself. "Honey? I'm home."

In a flash Laura was in his arms. Holding him so tightly that it had to hurt, especially with how much pain the archer appeared to be in already. It didn't seem to matter. Clint held back, as firmly as he could, like he had no intention of ever letting go again. Only Natasha, who'd taught herself to read lips, knew what he whispered to his wife. ' _I did promise to come back to you. And a promise is a promise, even in a language you don't understand._ '

Laura tightened her hold on him still and buried her face to his shoulder.

Clint was back home – for the last time.

It took several minutes before Laura finally noticed that there were other people in the room. She didn't let go of her husband while her gaze scanned through the group. "Nat's been keeping me posted on what's going." She didn't sound accusative but there was a warning in her tone. "If you stay here for a while… Can you promise me that you'll behave? Because the last thing we need in this house right now is bitter fighting."

They all agreed solemnly, knowing too well that they'd already wasted too much time on feud and wounded feelings.

That was when Cooper and Lila came barging in. Their excited embrace succeeded in tackling the archer to the floor but the man didn't emit as much as a grunt of discomfort. Instead he held them with all his might, pouring all his love and affection into that gesture.

"Where were you, daddy?" Lila whispered.

Clint sighed heavily. "It's a long story, sweetie. But I'm home, now."

It took the adults observing a while to realize that Lila was crying. When she spoke again it sounded like a pained whimper. "Please don't go anymore."

Clint shuddered. The agony in his eyes… It was palpable. "Oh sweetie… You know that I wouldn't if I didn't have to." He wiped away her tears. "Hey, stop looking so sad. I'll always watch over you, no matter what, remember?"

Lila swallowed thickly. Her hold on her dad tightened. "Promise?"

"Promise."

In the hassle and emotional turmoil that followed only one of them noticed that Tony slipped outside and didn't come back in.

* * *

Tony must've been sitting outside for a while, because at some point it'd gotten darker and colder. He was starting to shiver when all of a sudden someone placed a blanket over his shoulders. Looking up with startle, he discovered Clint. "Are you trying to catch your death out here, Tincan?" The man made a face at his own choice of words. "Sorry, bad joke."

Tony snorted and wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself. "This whole thing feels like one", he admitted. Then gulped, risking a brief glance towards his friend. "Thanks."

Clint didn't quite smile but the man's facial features softened a little. "No problem." The archer sat rather heavily beside him, unable to bite back a groan. "You know, I was worried that you'd bolted."

"Would you honestly have been sad to have me out of here?" He hated feeling so insecure and abandoned. It transformed into bitterness. "Does it look like anyone wants me around after all the crap?"

Clint shrugged. "I do. All the crap notwithstanding. So do the kids. Coop's got some sort of an arrow design he wants to show you."

Tony frowned and looked towards his friend. They… were still friends, weren't they? "Are you seriously not gonna yell at me?"

Clint met his eyes. Appearing sad and serious. "Something tells me that nothing I'd scream at your face could be worse than what's already going through your head."

Tony looked away again. Why offer any objections against the truth? It took some time before he managed to voice one of the million thoughts in his head. "Look… My scientists, they haven't checked your test results yet." This was something that'd been spinning around his head a lot recently. "There might still be something. Some sort of an experimental treatment…"

"Tony." Clint's voice was soft but not feeble. "There's… There's no miracle cure for this, okay?" The man was looking at him with worried eyes. "I accepted that, eventually. Can you?"

Tony shook his head, his line of vision getting dangerously blurry.

When Laura peered to the porch ten minutes later both men were wiping their eyes. Tony's breathing still didn't sound right but Clint's firm hand on the man's shoulder seemed to improve it, slowly yet steadily. "Let's…" The billionaire took a gulp of air. "Let's not tell Nat about this chick-flick moment. She'd roll her eyes at us. Or laugh."

"Probably both", Clint guessed.

The brief laugh that bubbled was quiet, off and held a touch of hysteria. But it was a start of… something. It was touching enough to have Laura wiping her own eyes as she left the two men be.

* * *

A few hours later Clint had all three kids in his arms as he lay on his and Laura's bed. Baby Nate slept soundly on his chest and stomach while the older two occupied both sides of him. So what if Nate was too young and Cooper too old for such? By the time he'd finished three bedtime stories and Lila kept asking for another Clint began to have his suspicions. "You two should be in your own beds by now", he pointed out, gently yet firmly. "Your mom's gonna give us a scolding when she sees you still awake."

Both kids shook their heads. "Read another", Cooper ordered. Or perhaps rather pleaded. "Or tell us about a mission. Or something."

"Yeah", Lila agreed. Somehow she managed to snuggle closer to him although it should've been impossible. "I'm not sleepy yet." Very convincing, as she suppressed a yawn.

"Hey." Clint was absolutely certain of what was going on, now, and he hated himself for making his kids go through this. "It's okay to go to sleep, you two. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"And then we'll have pancakes?" Lila suggested, clearly forcing herself to _forget_ for a moment.

Clint nodded. "Well of course we'll have pancakes. Who'd dare to suggest otherwise?"

It didn't take long before the children were asleep. Clint also slipped into a light, restless slumber until movement startled him awake. Opening his eyes – prepared to protect his kids if he had to – he found Wanda tucking him in. She tried to smile. "Hey. You… were shivering, so…"

Clint nodded. "Thanks." He checked up on the kids, pleased to discover that their rest had remained undisturbed.

Wanda cut the ensuing brief silence. "So… They know, huh?"

Clint nodded again, feeling a lump in his throat. Having to come back home after Sokovia – after having survived a bullet wound, and having a kid die for him – to shatter Laura's relief with news that a doctor had found something _bad_ … Having to tell the children that soon he'd go away for good… Those had to be the worst few days of his life.

Wanda clearly saw that this wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss or remember. Instead she focused on Nate, and this time her smile was genuine. "He's grown up so much!" she gushed.

Clint couldn't help a smile of his own as he looked at the baby. "He has. He's already been taking his first steps. He's gonna be as fast as his namesake."

Wanda shook her head, her eyes shimmering. "No. I think he's going to be just like you. And… It's a good thing." She looked ready to cry but didn't. "This world needs a Clint Barton."

"Don't you mean a Hawkeye?" Clint joked weakly, trying to hide how touched he was.

"They're one and the same. Tony and Steve… They put on their suits and… become different people, really. Hide themselves. And Natasha… She's Black Widow more of the time than Natasha, even outside fieldwork. But you… You're just you." A set of fingers wrapped around Clint's hand, first tentatively, then more firmly. "That's why you're my favorite."

Clint squeezed back and didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

* * *

The following morning Cooper and Lila led the orchestra while Steve, Tony, Natasha and Wanda helped them prepare breakfast. The kids were blissfully oblivious to the Cold War between the adults. And it was exactly what the damaged team needed. Clint and Laura observed from the doorway, so proud of their children that their hearts swell.

"They're still a mess", Clint whispered softly.

"I know", Laura agreed. She kissed his neck, then his cheek. "But they're our mess."

Clint squeezed her hand. Then sighed. "What do you think will happen to them when I'm…?" He couldn't bring himself to say the last word any more than she could bear thinking it.

Laura leaned closer to him. "Are you really telling me that you're not seeing it?" Her eyes softened as she observed the team interacting with the children. And recognized the work of her husband. "You'll never be gone for them, not really."

"It's the Barton touch", Clint mused out loud after a while, sounding melancholic.

Laura shifted so that she could listen to his heartbeat. She focused on it firmly, letting it soothe her. "Yeah, honey." Her voice broke. "The Barton touch." Wouldn't she know?

* * *

The next couple of days were like waiting for a storm to erupt. The still palpable tension amongst the team, which threatened to burst to life at every tiniest spark, didn't make things any easier. But they kept it together. Respected Laura's wish.

It was a rather early morning and while Laura was busy with the kids Natasha suggested that she'd go and check up on Clint. He'd been ordered to bedrest the day before after he'd been found collapsed twice. It was dumb luck that Lila and Cooper didn't have to see him that way. Needless to say, he wasn't happy about getting benched. Natasha wasn't surprised to find the bed empty. Sounds of retching soon led her to the correct direction. By the time she made it to the toilet Clint was already wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.

She offered him a glass of water and waited for him to recover from the bout of nausea. Absolutely refusing to acknowledge how her eyes stung. "The meds?"

"The meds", Clint confirmed gloomily. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "They chase away a lot of the pain, but they also make a mess of my stomach." Her then looked at her and frowned. "You're still mad at me."

How about that. Clint still managed to catch her off guard. Natasha gritted her teeth and folded her arms. "What are you talking about?" she snapped. "Of course I'm not."

"Yes, you are", Clint insisted. As patiently as only a parent can. "Because you feel like I chose Steve and Wanda over you. Because I was pulling punches while we… sparred. Because I'm checking out on you. Take your pick."

Natasha face twisted to something like disgust. She rolled her eyes, slumping to the floor beside him. "Ridiculous."

Clint gave her a sad little smile. "These things usually are." He sighed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. It was confusing and alarming, really, how little the contact bothered her. "I'm sorry, Nat."

Natasha shrugged, leaning against him so that her head rested again his shoulder. Hoping that he read an 'I'm sorry, too' from the gesture. "Most people leave me sooner or later, anyway."

"I wasn't supposed to be 'most people'."

"You'll never be 'most people'. That's why this pisses me off so much." She wiped her eyes so swiftly that he almost missed it. "Now stop trying to distract me and let me help, you idiot. You've been playing mother hen too much lately."

"I know." Clint tried to smile but it turned into something closer to a grimace. "I just… I've been trying to make sure that everyone's okay, after…"

Natasha sighed. Was he really, honestly making her go through with this? She was exhausted and angry, and this _hurt_. "Of course we won't be okay. But… We're as resilient as cockroaches. We'll get by somehow." She tightened her arm around him, unwilling to imagine that reality. Even when she knew that it was a fast approaching future. "I'll keep the boys in line. And the brats, too."

What was that sound coming from Clint? "Auntie Nat, huh? I feel sorry for the first boy who breaks Lila's heart." After that it was like a damn had been broken.

Natasha had seen Clint cry before. But she'd never seen him really, truly break down, not even after Loki. Usually he either just walked off the hurt, or closed up like a clam until he'd punched enough people to have it out of his system. But there, on the bathroom floor with just the two of them… He no longer had the strength to hide.

She looked away when he stuffed a fist into his mouth to muffle the noises. She held him through the violent tremors that took over his body as the storm that'd been raging inside him became unleashed. Stood by him while she still could.

At some point Laura peered into the room. They exchanged a look of sadness and relief. They'd both known that this was brewing. It hurt to have this bomb go off but at least he was finally letting go.

Once the tremors subsided Natasha gave him a few moments. To be honest she needed them, too. "You good?"

"Yup." Clint grunted as they got up. "Just… Don't compare you guys to cockroaches again. I'm already feeling nauseous enough."

* * *

A little over a day later Clint collapsed yet again. Fairly quickly it became apparent that the final downhill had begun. Clint couldn't get out of the bed anymore.

It was never something they agreed to do. Somehow they all just happened to end up gathered into the bedroom. Knowing all too well that it was only a matter of hours.

* * *

No matter how hard Laura fought to stay awake – because she knew that at this point every minute was precious – there was little she could do about the exhaustion pulling her under. And eventually, inevitably, she dozed off beside her husband. Her hand resting above where his heart was still beating.

When she felt the soft, feeble nudges that roused her it took a while before she realized what was going on. She looked at Clint with a frown on her face. The second she met his eyes she knew what was happening. Her heart fell and shattered to pieces.

It was _time_.

But Clint wasn't about to go down easily, never had. There was no fear in his gaze. Just immense, bottomless worry as he first looked at her, then let his eyes wander through the sleeping team gathered into the room. He was holding on with all he had, no matter how much pain he clearly was in. At that moment it occurred to Laura that he w _as_ afraid, albeit not for himself. He was terrified to leave them behind, with everything having just blown up to million pieces.

Laura was oblivious to the tears in her eyes as she leaned down and kissed his cheek. Softly, tenderly. Pouring absolutely all her love into that single gesture. "It's okay. We'll be okay, I promise." Because she'd already seen the legacy he was leaving behind. It was like a thin beacon of light, pushing stubbornly through the darkest of hour. She kissed him again, pulling him close. "It's okay to stop fighting now, honey", she promised, her voice cracking. Of course she didn't want to lose him. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to hold on with tooth and nail, because she was only human and she was currently getting her heart torn out of her. But to force him into continuing this agonizing battle they'd already lost… She loved her husband far too much for that.

He shifted and she shuddered, worrying that the movement was the last one. Soon, however, she felt how he pulled the blanket wrapped around them both. He tucked her in properly, then wrapped an arm around her. Trying to offer her comfort even when he was shaking from the effort, agony and something she couldn't even begin to imagine. He buried his face to her shoulder, hiding his eyes. "'tired", he murmured.

Laura closed her own eyes, fighting back a sob. Held securely against her, her husband's shivers began to subside. She knew what it meant, even if she didn't want to. "Go to sleep", she whispered. Even if a big, selfish part of her wanted to beg and plead him to stay, just a little while longer, even if for just one minute. "We've got this." The team… It was in shambles at the moment. She'd be left alone with three children, one of which would only know his dad through photos, home videos and stories. Things would never, ever be the same again. But they'd have to move on somehow. For Clint. She held him even closer, feeling like she'd been embracing quicksand that was slipping through her fingers. And she needed to let him go, even if it was killing her. "It's okay to sleep, now."

Clint yawned and struggled to tighten his hold on her. He was no longer shaking. "'doesn't hurt anymore", he murmured in amazement. And she wondered just how long he'd been in agony all the time.

Laura opened her mouth but in the end all words got stuck into her throat. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. That she'd miss him, for the rest of her life. She wanted to tell him that she didn't regret even a single day she had with him, even though they threatened to drive her insane. She needed him to know that he'd never, ever be forgotten. But she was so choked up that she couldn't utter a word.

Clint, however, seemed to somehow see and hear it all, like he always did. He gave her neck a tender kiss. The last kiss goodbye. "I know", he more breathed out than anything else. Of course he did. Just like she knew how much he loved her in return, and how sorry he was that he had to go already.

What else was there to say?

In a few seconds Clint relaxed completely against her, like someone falling asleep. She kept holding on to him when his breathing pattern changed, counted each inhale and exhale as the proud fighter was forced to admit his last defeat. Until eventually, after a heart wrenching amount of pauses, those feeble movements stopped entirely. Leaving Clint still and at peace into her arms.

It took some time before Laura realized what just happened. Before the loss filled her, stealing all breath and warmth from her body. As it all rolled in she finally gave herself the permission to break down to quiet, bitter sobs that came from the bottom of her soul and broken heart.

Stroking his hair tenderly and humming softly, Laura wished – more than she'd ever hoped for anything in her entire life – that he hadn't just slipped to somewhere he couldn't come back home from.

* * *

About an hour later, at the first hints of a dawn, the team began to wake up simultaneously. Instinctively they looked towards the couple on the bed. The sight froze absolutely everything in the room.

Just one look at Clint's peaceful face and his bluish lips revealed that the fight was over.

Wanda pressed a hand against her lips, a few tears escaping. She looked almost as lost and crushed as she did on the day her brother died. Natasha tensed up to an extend where it had to hurt, a suspicious amount of moisture filling her eyes. Steve shuddered like someone who'd just gotten shot, appearing ready to cry and throw up all at once.

And Tony… He just couldn't handle it, any of it. It was already so hard to breathe that his chest hurt, flames bursting to life under his ribcage and an invisible fist squeezing around his throat. So he did the only thing he could.

He got up and left the room as quickly as his feet carried him. Even if he knew that this was something he'd never, ever be able to run away from. No matter how desperately he wanted to.

Tony also knew that he wouldn't be able to drink it all away but he was sure as hell going to try.

* * *

Nick Fury got the call an hour later, when he was only just starting the workday. Clint had been forced to admit his condition upon retiring. And the moment Fury heard Natasha's tone of voice he knew that the archer's time ran out. He counted it a small mercy in a horrific situation that at very least the Hawk was allowed to pass away out of that prison cell he didn't even belong to.

The kid he and Phil Coulson saved once upon a time – the wild and fiery teenager who refused to trust anyone or bow down to any authority – deserved hell a lot better than that. Deserved hell a lot better than this, really. But sometimes fate was just unbearably cruel.

The mental image of that kid was still firmly on Fury's mind as he opened his computer, then Clint's file. And finally, after three breaths, he changed the man's status from 'inactive' to 'deceased'. As soon as the deed was done he buried his face into both hands. If those hands were unsteady no one would ever have to know.

After an unclear amount of time Fury sighed. Then took his cell phone and dialed numbers. "Phil? There's… something you should know. You may want to sit down for this…"

* * *

The moment their mom entered Cooper's room – where all three kids had been together, because being apart in a time like this was unthinkable – he and Lila knew what was going on. There was only one thing that would've made their mom leave their dad's side. The realization slashed sharper than any knife.

Lila burst into tears immediately, and rushed into their mom's arms where she cried inconsolably, the sheer agony pouring out with each new sound. Cooper… He couldn't bring himself to cry. Or make a sound. He stood there, his eyes wide and feeling colder than ever in his life, the same agony that brought out his sister's tears trapped inside. Swelling in his chest until he could barely breathe.

All that succeeded in making sense to him was that he'd never wanted – _needed_ – a hug from his dad more and that he'd never get one again.

* * *

Tony had no idea how long he'd been in a brutal glaring match with the glass of brown liquid the brand of which he no longer remembered. His eyes hurt and his line of vision was getting infuriatingly blurry. And he had a strange feeling that somehow Clint was glaring at him accusingly. That thought only made him want to drink more.

So he did. And poured himself another. He was about to down that one as well until a familiar male voice spoke, the tone hard. "Really, Tony?"

Tony moved his gaze. He blinked slowly, shivering, as soon as he had. Because for a few moments he was drunk and confused enough to see Clint. The ache and longing transformed quite easily into bitterness. "What do you care?" he spat.

Instead of the archer Steve stood before him. Looking every bit as torn as he felt. "Because Clint… He left us with his family to protect. And you can't do that from the bottom of a bottle."

It took all Tony had to hide how deep those words slashed. He acted on first instinct and bit back. "For Clint's sake, I'm not gonna punch you right now. But you made it adamantly clear before how much he and the rest of us mean to you. So you can _shove_ that fake-care and walk."

It looked like Steve wanted to say more. But in the end the soldiered walked away, and in a different state of mind Tony might've felt guilty about the look on the man's face. Good. He wasn't sure how much longer his self-control would've held.

After a few long moments of hard, ragged breathing Tony finally downed the drink he'd poured earlier. Then set the glass down with an angry motion, and allowed the tears to fall. It was the last drink he had that endless evening and the pitch-black night which followed.

* * *

Outside the room Steve growled under his breath, moisture forming under his closed eyelids and eventually falling. His fists balled and he was about to punch a hole into the wall until he stopped himself on the last minute. Remembering that these were walls Clint built. Besides, hadn't there been enough damage already?

All of a sudden he heard noise from the living room. A frown appeared to his face while he moved to investigate. What he found was Lila, who was curled up on the couch, a Tablet in her firm, nearly desperate hold. His already broken heart shattered some more when he saw that she was watching a holiday recording where she was playing with her dad and Cooper. It was hard to believe that the laughing girl on the video feed was the same kid as the one on the sofa, with lines of dried tears on her incredibly sad face.

For a while Steve considered slipping away unnoticed. But then he remembered what he promised Clint and decided that he'd let the archer down enough. So he approached, sitting to the couch hesitantly. "Lila, I'm… I'm so sorry about your dad." Because he was, and there were very few things he'd ever been sorrier about.

Lila nodded, not looking away from the footage. Eventually she wiped her eyes roughly with one hand and sniffled. "I miss him", she whispered, like it was a big secret.

Steve lost his ability to speak for a long time. The weight nestled on his chest made it impossible to produce a word. "So do I", he breathed out at last. Simple and honest.

Lila snuggled close to him, never once breaking her contact from the Tablet. They were quiet for a long time before she spoke in a voice that sounded every bit as young as she was. "You were his hero, uncle Steve. He told us bedtime stories about you, before you met." She pointed towards the Tablet's screen, sniffling again. "See?"

Steve did. This clip was from well before the Avengers were ever assembled. Clint was wearing a very old, worn T-shirt that seemed to have a picture which resemble the shield he used to carry. The sight made Steve feel like he'd been stabbed. "I'm no hero", he pointed out in a sigh. "Heroes don't exist." It was impossible to believe in them after everything that'd happened recently.

Lila's eyes flashed with hurt, finally leaving the Tablet for long enough to look at him. "Yes, they do!" she insisted. "And daddy is mine!" A fresh set of tears was already building up in her eyes.

Well, Steve didn't need to wonder what to do anymore. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, and she held back like he was her lifeline. "I'm sorry", he murmured, not too far from tears himself. It seemed that these days he couldn't get anything right. "That was stupid of me."

Lila shrugged. Still sobbing but calming down. "It's okay. People say stupid stuff all the time. Mommy says it's human."

Steve wanted to smile, for a second. He didn't. "For the record… _If_ heroes _do_ exist… Your daddy's mine, too."

Lila said nothing to that, only held on to him tighter. In a while the silence that followed was cut by the sound of her stomach growling. It occurred to Steve that none of them had even thought about food in… who knows how many hours. Was it a full day? "How about I make you a sandwich?"

Lila nodded, and clearly had no intention of letting go of him. In the end he had to make the sandwiches with her held by one arm. At some point the child fell asleep, exhausted by the emotional overload. Soon after Natasha appeared to help him. There was a new tension between them, a rift caused by trust having been broken, possibly beyond repair. But as it was they had something far bigger and more important than that to focus on.

Steve was no master spy. But he could see clearly how hard Natasha fought to hold back tears. He swallowed and focused on spreading butter over a slice of bread. "Nat, I… I'm sorry." It sounded lame even to his own ears. But what else was he supposed to say? _Sorry about what I've done and caused. Sorry that you lost him, because I know how important he was to you._ Clint wasn't quite Natasha's only friend, but he was definitely her best friend. And the one who knew her the best. She'd trusted a lot of her secrets to his ears only. And now…

"Keep spreading butter", Natasha snapped. Reacting about the way he'd expected her to. After a few minutes, however… "He… just went, and died." She was careful to keep her voice low enough to not wake up Lila. "And I… I didn't even get the chance to make up for all the red on my ledger." For those stolen moments of vulnerability she appeared completely, utterly lost. "I have no idea how to repay that debt."

Steve sighed heavily. "That makes two of us." He tightened his hold on Lila when she began to whimper in her sleep.

In the meantime Natasha began to hum to baby Nate, who wiggled and squirmed in the protection of her arm.

Neither adult was in the state of mind to realize it at the time, but when it came to repaying debts, they were already at a fairly good start.

* * *

They couldn't call any officials to look after Clint. Not when they had the house full of fugitives. In the end Laura decided to look after her husband's body. Even if it was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.

At least she didn't have to do it alone.

A few moments after she started the heartbreaking task Wanda slipped into the room. They worked together in a silence for a while, washing him and changing him to his mission gear. They couldn't imagine burying him in anything else. Not that they would've been able to imagine burying him at all.

"He's thinner than I thought", Wanda murmured, her eyes moist.

Laura fought bravely to hold back her own tears. A couple of them escaped nonetheless. "He's been ill for a while", she pointed out softly. "He's been trying to eat, but…" She trailed off. Realizing belatedly that she was using a present tense when talking about him. She moved a strayed strand of hair from his forehead and wiped her own eyes before looking towards Wanda. "Sweetie… I appreciate this, I do. But you don't have to do this if…"

Wanda shook her head immediately. "Clint… was the first person outside my family who believed in me. And he… He tried to help me…" The young Sokovian couldn't continue.

Laura took a deep breath. "Wanda, none of this is your fault. Alright?" She looked at her husband. He appeared so very peaceful, and she would've given almost anything if she'd been able to rouse him. "Clint… The big dummy has the biggest heart I've ever encountered. And… As far as he's concerned, you're one of us." Yet again she caught her own present tense, and had to wipe away tears. "He would've done anything for you. Regardless of how you might feel about it."

By then Wanda was crying openly. Still the younger woman smiled feebly through the tears. "Sounds like Clint." She held the man's hand, as though hoping him to squeeze back. Laura understood the feeling all too well.

"And just so you know… You're still one of us. You always will be." This big, messed up and shattered extended family was a part of Clint heritage. And Laura was determined to cherish it, no matter what. Because it's what he would've wanted her to do. And because that way she felt like she hadn't lost him entirely, after all.

Wanda's lips opened twice. But in the end nothing came out. They both understood, anyway.

They continued the task in a silence. Both of them were crying while memories flashed through their minds. Because in death it isn't necessarily just the dying person who has their life flashing by their eyes – sometimes it happens to their beloved as well.

And Clint Barton had a good life, even if it was cut much too short.

* * *

Much too soon, or perhaps after an eternity, the time to bury Clint was almost at hand. Which was when they realized that they couldn't find Cooper anywhere. In the end it was Tony who found the child. He simply followed a hunch. After telling the others to stop worrying he made his way towards the barn. And true enough, that was where he found Cooper. The child was crying hysterically, holding…

Tony's stomach knotted, twisted and turned when he saw the boy holding his dad's hand.

They'd carried the archer there during the long, dark hours of a night. Well out of the children's sight. They should've known that the son of Hawkeye would notice.

Like that wasn't already bad enough, Cooper then looked up at him, wide eyes full of remorse and grief. "I… I just didn't want him to be alone. Before…"

Tony sighed. "I know, kid." Truth be told, the sight of his lifeless friend all alone in that wooden box was almost too much for even him to take. He tried to look away but couldn't. "How long have you been here?"

Cooper shrugged, but the shadows around his eyes were some indication.

Finally making up his mind, Tony moved closer and pulled Cooper into a hug. The child practically melted against him, having denied all offered comfort until then. The reaction brought a massive lump to the billionaire's throat. "People have been worried, you know."

Cooper rubbed at his eyes but more tears kept leaking out stubbornly. "I know. I just…" The boy trailed off.

Tony held the boy tighter. "I know." He lifted his chin and blinked furiously when his vision began to blur. "Me too."

* * *

Clint Barton was buried in the beautiful light of the morning sun, under his favorite tree.

What was still left of the team stood a bit further while the Bartons said goodbye to one part of what made their family whole. Lila's eyes were full of tears when she gave horribly ugly teddy bear a hug, then dropped the toy into the hole. "Huggy will look after daddy, right?"

Laura's back was towards the team so they couldn't see her face. She kissed her daughter's head before responding in a rather choked tone. "Yeah, sweetie. I'm sure he will."

Next it was Cooper's turn. Everyone's heart clenched when he revealed his dad's bow, then dropped it to the hole with a trembling hand. "No one else should use it. Ever."

There'd never be another Hawkeye.

The Avengers – because that's what they'd always be, that was Clint's legacy – kept watch. Natasha stood tall with her head held high, her sunglasses hiding the tears in her eyes. Wanda's feelings were slightly more open as she first wiped her eyes, then moved to close the grave with her powers. Unable to watch, Tony and Steve looked at each other. And exchanged nods.

It wasn't an absolution. It wasn't forgiveness. But it was a promise to try.

From afar, unnoticed by the funeral crowd, two grim faced men stood observing.

Nick Fury's eyes moved when his companion's hand did. His eyebrows furrowed. "You alright?"

Phil Coulson sighed. Remorse shone bright and clear in the man's eyes before sunglasses appeared to cover them. "No." Too many things had been left unsaid and unsorted. "You?"

"Of course." Fury lifted his chin defiantly. Then let out a long sigh.

 _Damnit, Barton…!_

They continued their watch in a silence, both of them furiously determined.

Clint was gone. The Avengers as they knew the team was shattered. But the battle continued, even with one soldier down. They'd make sure that the whole battered family in front of them would be alright, eventually.

For Clint.

Everyone present at the funeral had a bizarre, comforting feeling the archer was somehow right there with them.

* * *

' _Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal._ '  
(From an Irish headstone)

* * *

 ** _End_**

* * *

A/N: OH… BOY! Poor Clint! The poor extended family left behind! POOR PHIL! I wonder if he ever even got the chance to talk with Clint after… ya know.

So, this LOOOOOOOOOONG chapter took me AGES to finish. Because of the size. And because… Well, you know. BUT NOW, the word's yours! Was that any good, at all? Deletion worthy? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd REALLY like to know if this turned out to be any good at all.

And… Yeah. Sorry, if some of you needed tissues. (winces apologetically)

THANK YOU, so much, for reading! And who knows… Maybe I'll see ya again.

Take care!

* * *

Guest: I'm SUPER happy that you're eager to read more! I REALLY hope that the final bit manages to be worth the wait.

And btw, 'Civil War' broke my heart, too.

HUGE thank yous for the review!

* * *

Ande: Oh dear! (winces) I'm thrilled that you still want more, though. We'll see how sad this'll get in the last bit…

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	4. Epilogue

A/N: SURPRISE! Just when I thought that this story was over it decided to need an epilogue. So… Here we are!

What happened to the remaining Bartons and Avengers after Clint's passing?

Before answering that… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your AMAZING reviews, listings and love! I can't believe how many of you have been taking this journey with me. (HUGS)

Okay, because time's ticking on… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

 **TISSUE ALERT…?**

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

The old tree had been by the farm for decades before the Barton family. It saw the loss of Clint Barton. And it kept watch on the family he left behind.

A gentle, melancholy wind blew often during the first few months. The tree witnessed a lot of bitter fights and even more tears. Someone irreplaceable was gone and the gaping hole's jagged edges cut wide open wounds on the entire remaining family. Each of them broke down in their own, special way. Each of them also had their own way of getting back to their feet. Because no matter how much they hated it, how much they wanted to fight it, life had to go on. The tree watched every step of it, unmoving, forever present. Never missing a single important moment, no matter how happy, bitter, insane or sad.

* * *

On the evening following Clint's funeral hesitant steps approached the Farm. Laura stood outside, somehow knowing to wait for the arrival. The second Bruce Banner saw the way her eyes watered at the sound of Clint's name he knew, with brutal certainty, that he was too late. It took an hour before Bruce managed to make himself enter the building. There was a lot of shouting, such that carried easily to the tree. Bitter words of overwhelming grief and crushing guilt. It was almost midnight when Bruce sat under the tree, having retreated there to his solitude to avoid losing control entirely. And for the first time in… forever he allowed tears to fall. Feeling all alone in the world (even though he wasn't, not really). "I'm sorry", he whispered. Over and over again. With each word caressed by a gentle wind that came from nowhere.

At the break of the next dawn Natasha stood by the grave. Rainwater slid down her cheeks as she stood in the cold, trembling. Her eyes blazed from a mixture of emotions that she wasn't sure she could handle while she waited. Wind and rain muted the words she whispered before eventually walking away.

A bizarre, loaded peace lasted for three days since then. Only to be broken inevitably. Tony and Steve eventually fought a second time, this time without their suits, giving each other a mighty amount of bruises.

Not much later Tony stood under the tree. Wind carried the stench of alcohol easily to the lowest branches. Traces of dried and fresh tears were clearly present on the billionaire's face as he stared at the grave. "I… I'll pull myself together. I promise." And it was the most important promise the man had ever given. The inventor wiped his eyes. "And when I have… I'll come back for your family. Because that's… That's what a family does, isn't it? It's what you did." Soon the Iron Man was already walking away, only to turn at the last minute upon feeling someone looking at him. He peered over his shoulder and for a moment, just one, he was almost able to trick himself into seeing Clint at the porch. Soon, however, he distinguished Steve instead. They stared at each other for a while, tension flickering dangerously in the air until a gentle wind wiped it away. They exchanged a nod before Tony continued onwards and Steve retreated to the Farm. Once again they were advancing towards different directions. But the gentle wind was bound to bring them together again eventually.

It took Steve himself two more months to leave the Farm behind. He stood at the porch, watched how Laura guarded Nate's still wobbly steps while the baby rushed towards his daddy's grave, looking so much like Clint that it was heartbreaking. And the Captain knew that it was time.

As he walked towards T'Challa's private jet late that evening he refused to look over his shoulder, instead trusted the stubborn wind pushing him forward.

Wanda stayed the longest. She told herself that it was because the remaining Bartons needed her help. Maybe it was rather out of fear. During daytime she helped with daily errands, spent time with the children so Laura got the chance to catch her breath. When dusk fell she always found her way to Clint's grave. She spent countless of hours there, talking to him, comforted by the wind wrapping her into a tender embrace.

Until one evening Laura sat beside her and took her hand. "It's alright to go, sweetie", Laura promised, her voice cracking a little. "Do what he asked you to. Go out there and help save the world. Make him proud. Then come back and tell him all about it."

Wanda did.

Fourteen months later the whole remaining team stood by the grave. Including Thor, who was seeing it for the first time and fighting visibly to control his emotions. But even the mighty Asgardian couldn't hold back a single tear. "He was a mighty warrior", the hammer wielder declared, the words coming from the bottom of his heart and soul. "It was an honor to have him by our side."

The others nodded, their own feelings a great deal more visible than they would've wanted. "Yes", Steve agreed, echoing what they all thought. "It was." His eyes met Tony's. And while it was obvious that things would never be the same it was equally painfully obvious that they'd have to move onwards. Soldier on.

For Clint.

The rest of them watched how Wanda took two steps forward, placing a small, stunningly beautiful silver hawk on top of the tombstone. Her hands shook and for a moment it looked like the decoration might fall but finally it settled, fitting right in. As the rest of them paid their silent respects behind them, safe from prying eyes, Natasha took Bruce's hand and squeezed so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Happy birthday, Feathers", Tony whispered to the grave, and they all raised a bowl of Shawarma.

All the while the warm wind kept blowing, wrapping around them like a blanket. Embracing them, comforting them. And since then they met there once a year, no matter what. For as long as they could.

Thor was the first one missing, seven years later, Asgard demanding its ruler home permanently.

A little over two more years passed by until Natasha was missing. They no longer had their eyes from the sky, Steve told the grave in a cracking voice, wiping his eyes. A sniper's bullet ended her life on a mission. The wind was different on the day of that announcement. Colder, damper. As though the nature itself had mourned the fallen hero.

It didn't surprise anyone that Bruce never showed up again after that, either.

It took everyone a while to realize that something was wrong with Wanda. Until she was caught throwing up blood. Apparently the enhancement was too much on her body, after all. Two days before Clint's would-have-been-birthday Vision held her in his arms under the tree, having given in to her pleas. (She didn't want an audience, just him. How was he supposed to deny that?) They both watched the grave, one's eyes shimmering and the other's glazing over slowly yet steadily. The wind – gentle but full of immense sadness – nearly muted Wanda's final 'Thank you'. Then her hand went limp in Vision's, leaving him alone into the world.

Tony surprised a lot of people with seeing his sixtieth birthday. He had three relapses but mostly he remained sober. His very own sobriety coin had the picture of a hawk on it. Steve had a newspaper article on the billionaire's death in his unsteady hold as he stood by the grave.

A plane crash. And all of a sudden Steve was alone yet again. The last soldier standing. Story of his life.

Only… Maybe he wasn't entirely alone, after all. Soft steps approached until Cooper was stood beside him. Wearing a mission gear that was almost identical to his dad's. The young man was also carrying a bow and arrows. They stood there for a while, until Cooper wiped his eyes and looked at him. "Ready to go?"

Steve nodded. Too many ghosts of the past weighing on his shoulders. "Let's go. And make them proud."

It was the last time Steve saw the tree and the grave, and his last mission until he announced retirement. Recovering in a hospital, he told Cooper that he'd been fighting long enough. He deserved a holiday. Since then the Barton Farm received a card, each from a different location, thrice a year. One for Christmas, one for Clint's birthday, and one on the anniversary of the Hawk's death. Until, eventually, they stopped.

A few months later, on a yet another gloomy anniversary, a young woman with the hair of familiar blonde stood in front of Clint's grave. She wiped her cheeks before placing a beautiful, golden locket that held a tiny amount of the Captain's ashes beside the grave. The jewelry had the Avengers symbol engraved to it.

Because that was where a piece of Steve Rogers belonged to, where he was the closest to the part of his family that was united by more than blood.

* * *

The Barton family moved on as well because there was no other choice. The tree witnessed that as well. All of the madness.

Laura went outside to cry and scream, time and time again, not wanting her children to see how the grief was eating her up alive.

Cooper spent far too much time by the grave. Trusting only his dad with the knowledge that he was terrified of going back to school, of facing everyone, after… Eventually he fell asleep, right there by the grave. A little later Tony appeared and carried him inside, wrapping a quilt that smelled like his dad around him. It was two weeks from Clint's death and it was the first time the boy slept properly through the night.

Since the funeral it took two months before Lila managed to convince herself into visiting the grave again. Once she did she didn't say a word, just gave the stone a quick kiss before running away with tears in her eyes. She never noticed how one branch of the tree brushed her shoulder as she went.

They all visited the grave a lot since. Perhaps too much. Not forgetting, for even a single day. But a life is meant for the living, painful as it may be. The tree watched as life took its course.

Nate's horrible, earth shattering terrible twos tormented the entire family. Nearly drove Laura insane. (There were several nights when she stood by Clint's grave, screaming until she had no voice left and cursing him for leaving her to handle this alone.) The whole experience made Cooper grow up too quickly, like he hadn't been doing too much of that since losing his dad. Lila as well.

Lila's teenager years were a nightmare. A lot of shouting matches carried all the way to the tree. Doors were slammed closed, tears were shed. Countless of times the teenager – who missed her daddy more than her heart could bear – poured out her sorrow, frustration and anger to the tombstone.

At the age of sixteen she stood by that grave yet again, her heart hammering furiously while she squeezed a young man's hand so hard that it hurt. One of her hands was pressed against her stomach while she gathered the courage to break the news. She became a single mother on her seventeenth birthday.

Tears ran down her cheeks when she introduced her daughter to her dad. "Daddy? This… This is Clara. And… We'll be fine."

Of course it wasn't quite that simple. But thankfully Laura was there to help her through the teething, sleepless nights and stomach aches. The tree kept watch through it all.

Lila swore off on love. She had her daughter and her own messed up life to focus on. She had her child, her friends and her family. It was more than enough.

Eventually she became a ER-nurse, just like her mom. She was thirty-six and it was Christmas Eve when a man of her age was brought in, a bullet in his butt. When their eyes met a very unprofessional comment slipped through her lips. "Oh shit…!"

They were thirty-nine when he finally managed to convince her into marrying him. She agreed, on one condition. They'd have the wedding at the Farm. Her future husband agreed. She wore her mom's wedding dress when they kissed as a husband and wife. And she knew, from the bottom of her heart and soul, that her daddy was there watching over her.

Cooper reacted to his dad's death and everything which followed by retreating even further into himself than he had before. He still visited the grave but he no longer spoke. He could only hope that his dad heard him, anyway.

He never had a lot of friends. It was okay with him, because those few he had were closer than close. He fell in love for the first and last time at the age of twelve. His dad was the first person he told about his feelings. He introduced her to her dad when they were fourteen. He managed to catch a glimpse of the drawing she placed tenderly to the tomb. ('No peeking!') It was a magnificent picture of a hawk rising to its wings. And that was when he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

He also knew exactly what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. His mom refused to speak to him for two days after he announced that he'd follow in his dad's footsteps and become an Avenger. An archer. Then, tears still in her eyes, she came to him and hugged him until he could barely breathe.

It felt like Clint Barton was with them, that evening by the grave.

Cooper got married at the age of eighteen. He and his wife were still in their wedding clothes when they visited Clint's grave. For the first time Cooper was able to look at the stone without feeling like his soul had been torn apart. His wife's determined hold on his hand and the gentle wind caressing them both helped.

They started trying for a baby when they were twenty-three. And suffered five losses. Each time Cooper came to his dad with the same plea, tears he was trying not to shed filling his eyes. "You… You'll look after them, right?" The wind brushed his cheek softly as a response.

And then, finally, they stood before the grave with a newborn baby girl. It was the only place where they could imagine first introducing their child. "Hi dad. Meet Natasha Barton." Cooper would've known that his dad approved even if it the wind didn't whisper so.

They fully expected baby-Natasha to be their only one. They were already almost forty when they were surprised by their second child. This time it was a baby boy in their arms.

"What do you think we should name him?" Cooper murmured as he stared at his child, mesmerized.

His wife had a small smile on her face as she looked towards the stone. Took in the much loved and longed name on it. "I think we only have one option."

As for Nate… Nate had his father's spirit. As soon as he was eighteen he got a tattoo, a hawk, right above his heart. And then he headed to the world, trying to get to know the man he never got to have memories of through visiting each and every single place the legendary Hawkeye set foot in.

He met his fate with T'Challa's daughter. She was Iolani. Later he found out that her name meant something like 'to fly like a hawk' or 'bird of heaven'. It made him love her even more.

As he visited his dad's grave with his own twins, named Peter and Winona, Nate sighed heavily. Trying to imagine just how hard it had to have been for the man to leave him, Cooper and Lila behind. He hoped that the man knew they were okay, somehow. And that he missed him. Even if it was ridiculous to miss someone he never remembered meeting.

Laura hugged him from behind, as though reading his mind. Was she crying? "He knows", she promised.

And Laura… She watched over her children. And their children. She even managed to be happy, although her heart was never quite whole again.

It was befitting, in a way, that it was her heart which ended up causing her death.

Like Tony she managed to hang on until she was sixty. Held on tight to be sure that her children would be alright. It'd been raining for almost a week but on the day of her funeral sun was shining brightly, warmly. Embracing the world while she was buried next to her husband.

Lila chuckled wetly. Wiping her eyes. "They found each other, huh?"

Cooper sighed. He didn't notice his own tears. "I hope so."

The warm wind that began to blow was all the answer they needed.

* * *

Below the ground, unbeknownst to anyone, the tree which had been keeping an eye on the family Clint left behind wasn't quite alone. Slowly but steadily, as decades passed by, its roots had been tangling together with those of another tree. And there, underneath the graves of Clint and Laura, those roots knotted to an unbreakable embrace.

* * *

 ** _End_**

* * *

A/N: WOAH! And here I thought that I was finished with this story. Apparently there was still something to be told. (smiles sadly)

Soooo… Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PLEASE, do leave a word or two to the box down below!

And THANK YOU, so very much, for taking this incredibly moving journey with me! It's been a fantastic ride, although not easy from time to time. I really hope that you've enjoyed yourselves! (HUGS)

Awkay, I really have to go. Maybe I'll meet you again one day?

Take care!

* * *

Ande: (offers tissues) Those poor people, right? But perhaps something good comes out of this terrible tragedy.

Massive thank yous for the review!

* * *

Nightshade: Oh dear…! I've gotta admit that I'm a bit flattered that the story moved you, though. And that's exactly the message I was hoping to send!

We'll see how the others' lives continued in an epilogue…

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Deb: GOSH! I'm not sure if I should be sorry or flattered… (smirks sheepishly)

HUGE thank yous for the review!

* * *

Guest (1): I'm sorry about making you cry so! BUT, I'm also insanely flattered! Dang, even the thought of him being lost to the team… (shivers)

Monumental thank yous for the review!

* * *

Guest (2): Awww, I'm glad to hear that you think so!

Enormous thank yous for the review!


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